The Fall of the Isaiah Tribe
It remember the cold. Biting, snapping, draining, leeching. Joints locking up, muscle seizing, blood turning to ice within veins. Watching nations come and go. Some adapted to the ice, others fought it. All eventually submit to the white death.
It remembers the hunger also. The clawing worm at the bottom of the gut. The weakness that comes with it. Feeling strength leave the body, the mind slowly going berserk. The jaw snapping, drool slathering hunger.
The hunters come with mammoth, dog and spear. No strength left to fight them. They hunger as I do, we are the same. They can sate themselves on my flesh. Let the curse be born anew, cannibalistic seeds bury deep within new flesh.
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